


Rats belong in the Night

by JunkerKing



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Blood, Body Dysphoria, Crime, Crime AU, Eventual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of sex work, Minor Character Death, Murder, Police Officer Mako, Sex worker Junkrat, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, eventual gore!, will add important tags later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunkerKing/pseuds/JunkerKing
Summary: Blood running through the cracks in the wet pavement beneath his feet. So much blood.In the darkness of the alleyway it looked like somebody had spilt some black paint.His eyes followed the stream slowly upwards to its source...





	Rats belong in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone who stumbled upon this fic!   
> It is my very first one in years and my first one in English, as well. So please mind that it's not my first language!  
> Overwatch, and especially Roadrat, is the first fandom to inspire me to actually pick up writing again.   
> I give my best to push through with everyting until the end, as I have the whole plot planned in my head already. 
> 
> This one, as it is a crime AU centered on a trans Junkrat, will contain lots of violence, dysphoria mention and also stuff like intentional misgendering and the Rat having a really hard time - but I hope that maybe I can give some fellow trans friends a new, positive perspective with some of the things happening here...   
> But please be aware of everything if you happen to be more on the sensitive side. 
> 
> But now, onto the thing and I hope you enjoy reading it as I enjoyed writing it!

Blood running through the cracks in the wet pavement beneath his feet. So much blood.  
In the darkness of the alleyway it looked like somebody had spilt some black paint.  
His eyes followed the stream slowly upwards to its source – and there she lay. Bent in an unhealthy way, unmoving, dark hair wild in hair face, high heels slipped from her feet and clattered to the cold, dirty and wet floor. Her light, satin dress soaked in her own blood around her chest.

There his friend was, just wanting to take a toilet break during this exhaustingly quiet night just some minutes ago. And now she was dead. His breath increasing, becoming unsteady and his skinny left hand shaking while the metal one stood still, as unmoving as the woman in front of him.  
Somebody call an ambulance!  
Too late, he thought.

The police cars blue lights swirled in the half darkness of the badly lite main road which lead to the alley where the dead woman was found.  
“You sure the kid over there’s got nothing to do with it?”  
The giant, silver haired man in a bit of a too tight blue police uniform scoffed.  
“Just look at him. Found her. Still can’t speak a word.”  
He nodded over to the tall, skinny blond crouching next to the car wrapped up in a blanket a medic had given him earlier.  
“There would be just no reason for him to kill off one of his kind.”  
The smaller police officer watched the young man intensively from afar.  
“…You’re right, Mako”, he just sighed then, looking back at the crime scene.

The victim’s dead body was already packed up and would be driven away to the forensics in a couple of minutes. The few spectators who had gathered around the scene were also scattering again as well, each going their own way into the cold darkness of this early spring night.

Mako Rutledge, police inspector for more than a decade already, had seen worse in his years of duty. But of course, murder cases were always horrible, sad, unnerving.  
He shot a glance at the blond young man, thinking for a second, then deciding to slowly walk up to him.

“…You know, if you remember something of value to this case you can always dial us up…  
Dial me up.”  
Calmly he reached into his front pocket and gave a business card to the younger man who still did not manage to look up at him or even say a word. But, he took the card with a still slightly shaking a hand. That was good enough for Mako so he went back to his colleague.

 

The sun already began to rise when Jamie climbed the few steps to his small one room apartment not far from the crime scene, not far from the cheapest and dirtiest red-light district the city had to offer.

Exhaustedly he fell onto his bed, stuffed with different plushies, old and new, very different to each other, some really cute and some outward creepy. He did not bother to undress, just clutching one his now dead friend had gifted him for his last birthday knowing his obsession for these things.  
He could not even cry, everything felt dry – his throat, his eyes and even his long and pointy nose for which he was harassed back in school days.  
Eventually he drifted off into an uneasy slumber but it was far better than being awake and feeling numb.

 Jamie woke up to a clutching pain in his chest, trying to breathe properly but it felt as if someone sat on his torso preventing him from taking in enough air. Of course.  
He sat up, hastily removing his hoodie and then clawed at his binder, needing way too long to get it off over his broad shoulders. It was always like that, dressing and undressing with this life saving thing. The piece of cloth was already worn out but it still fulfilled its duty to flatten his chest – not that this was much of a hassle as the skinny guy was quite flat anyways.

Being able to breathe properly again now, he stood up from his bed and stretched; joints cracking and him moaning.  
Wandering off into the bathroom he also removed his shorts and briefs, stepping into the small and not very clean shower, turning on the water, cursing as it was arctic cold first and then scorching hot just a second later. This was also why his showers were always fast and not very thoroughly.

Stepping out of the shower again he dried of his wet hair a bit, sulking at the bald spots on his head – this was what could come with hormone replacement therapy. That was also why he tried to take them as a battle mark, not trying to think too much about it. At least it meant that he mostly was stable on a good level of testosterone even though it also meant there was not much money left for anything else in his life.  
But it was worth it, he said to himself every time it was dry pasta again for the rest of the month.

Putting on a lot of deodorant and cologne he left the small bathroom and searched for a fresh pair of shorts and a hoodie in his chaos of a room. There was never any time to clean it up properly, not that he really cared.  
When he took his hoodie from the previous night from the floor a small paper card slipped out and fell onto his crumpled sheets.

Ah, yes. The giant police officer with the very deep voice.  
Call me if you have valuable information on the case, he had said.  
But Jamie did not even know what police officers counted as valuable.  
He knew that if there weren’t any evidences leading to the murderer soon the case would be discarded faster than one could spell valuable. Sex workers did not count much in this society.  
Well, did they count anywhere at all?

 

After a short breakfast in the middle of the day consisting of cornflakes and some juice, Jamie decided to do some window shopping downtown to distract himself from the previous, gruesome night. He walked all the way to the city center, sparing him the humiliation of being stared at all the way on public transport. He hated that. Not that he could blame all the other people staring at him all the time – he was way too tall, always bent forwards a bit funny having to do with the angst of people eyeing his chest, unkempt, wild blond hair, punkish and ragged clothes and one hand being bright orange metal. Who wouldn’t stare at this curiosity?

His fiery amber eyes now darting from one shop window to another not really taking in what he was seeing, rather trying to distract his mind from wandering back to the thick, dark reed liquid on the pavement a few hours earlier.

It could have been him, couldn’t it? Or any other friend he has back in the district.  
Thinking about that, a slight goose bump prickled in his neck.  
Hastily he discarded these thoughts again, walking on in a faster pace and eventually stopping in front of those fancy coffee shops only hip and rich kids went into.  
But it smelled really nice, he had to admit to himself.

“…Hungry?”  
A now familiar, deep and grunting voice spoke up behind the lanky blond.  
He turned around to stare at the police officer from last night with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open in a rather stupid looking manner.

The police officer did not wear his blue uniform but a casual leather jacket and dark jeans, sunglasses on even though the sun was barely out today, fitting to Jamie’s unstable mood.

He huffed when the younger man did not respond.  
“Don’t worry. Not trying to buy you or something.”  
The blonds face flushed a bit and he hastily shook his head, lips turning into a weak grin.  
“Didn’t… didn’t think that, mate. With you being an officer an’ all.”  
These were the first words he could speak to this bear of a man, strangely feeling a hint of safety radiating from him. That maybe made him very good at his job, he thought.

“So?”  
Gosh, this voice was so, so deep and rumbling through every fiber of his body!  
“Well… I must admit I’ve never smelled a coffee that good, so...”  
Could he really take on an invitation from an official? Maybe he suspected him and in a second he would be arrested and thrown into jail, accused of what he could never ever do? That would not be surprising, because it would be easy with him being a prostitute and all.

“Don’t worry. ‘Been a coincidence I saw you here. Just thought, you’d maybe like to talk about what happened.”  
Hearing these words Jamie looked really surprised, his mouth opened and closed for a few seconds but then he nodded. A good coffee and some sandwich could not hurt, could it?  
“Thanks, mate.”

An awkward silence settled between the strange pair when they sat down in one of the corners of the fancy coffee shop, awaiting their orders to be brought to their small table.

  
Jamie’s eyes darted across the small café, staring at all the hip and well-dressed young people sat on artsy chairs and on big plush sofas, like the one he was sprawled on now.  
Before either of them could say a word, their orders were brought – a big ham sandwich and a sickenly sweet caramel coffee for the tall blond and really big cocoa with whip for the officer.

“Name’s Mako if you’d like”, that voice rumbled again, quiet and calm.  
Amber eyes shot up at him and a short nod followed.  
“Jamie”, he simply answered, sipping on the odd colorful straw in his coffee.  
They fell silent again for a short time, eating and drinking - only disrupted by the ungodly sounds Jamie made while chewing on his sandwich. But Mako did not say a word about that.

“…Ya know, I’ve never seen a dead body before. I don’t think it will ever leave me head. The view.”  
The skinny man looked very interested at the tomatoes in his sandwich.  
“Hmm. It won’t leave your head. But you will get used to it.”  
The older man watched Jamie now fidgeting on the sofa for a while.  
“This is why helping clear the case will also help you.”

…So he just invited him to get more information from him, even though he already had said he did not see or hear anything before?  
But Jamie sighed and nodded instead. Whatever.

Mako did not pry on him at any second they sat at the café in what was mostly a tensed silence.  
The officer payed afterwards and waved Jamie’s hundred awkward thank yous off when they stood outside again.

“Gotta get back to work. Stay safe”, the giant said, staring at the smaller man for a second before taking his leave towards a huge motorbike.

  
Hands in his pockets and skipping on his heels Jamie nodded and watched Mako taking off, slightly impressed. He looked more like a biker gang dude than a respectable police inspector to be honest.

Hobbling back to the outer district near the city harbor, a faint smell of salt and fish always brought to the area by the wind, he mentally readied himself for another night of work in the backseats of cars, behind trash containers and in dirty bushes, always hoping he could keep his pants on this time.  
What he did not knew at that time was, that every of his steps was being watched through the windows of a car that nobody would ever suspect.

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats, you made it through the first part!
> 
> Kudos and especially comments (and inspiring critiscm) is very, very welcomed as I just started writing again with this piece!  
> Thank you all.


End file.
